The oval of her face
Blue, happy, somewhat tired,
It glares in flares of fire.
A falling star leaves mark
Half-real and half-dark
Above the shoulders’ arc
The oval of her face
Uncertain, sharp, maternal
Like music, frail, eternal
Like happiness, unsafe
Like youth, fresh, silly, brave
Like life, from birth to grave
There is no use at all
To try explain it all
Just as in love to fall
And, yet, who would surrender
One glance at quaky, tender
That oval of her face?..
31.08-04.09.08
A sketch
© Copyright: Геннадий Сакс, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110031005523
Свидетельство о публикации №110031005523
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